like its first line –
the first bite
of a cobra that coils you,
like your hand
on my nape
with the other on my chest.
like a garden of metaphors,
full of unbloomed roses
and unbirthed scents,
anticipating the warmth
of your eyes that set upon me.
like a sonnet
with the perfection
of its measure
and the sound of the syllables
singing together.
like an epic
telling the story
of the adventures
of your touch tracing
my curves and shapes,
conquering continents
of my mind.
I wish I could be all these words
and be all the poems
you wish to write –
in your papers,
behind your armchair,
on your sweaty palm,
or in your prayers
and in your moments
like a recurrence
through this lifetime.
I wish I could be as good as the poems
that you have imprinted in me
with the whispers
of your mouth –
the faint breath of our sounds
but you
have refused
to write
me.
Karen Kae is a junior high school teacher from Davao City. In between teaching and writing reports, she enjoys decluttering and playing shooter games.